Sandstorms
by Saphyr88
Summary: Short Story. 20 years after Helen blows up the Old Sanctuary plenty has changed and much has stayed the same. Find out how much, as Helen and her team go hunting for Sand Rays and discover a new threat to abnormals!
1. Chapter 1

**The Sahara Desert, 2032**

Her lungs burned at the huge gasps of air she was sucking in, choking slightly on flecks of sand. Automatically her hands came up to waft the dust away from her vision, and make sure that he was alright. It was stupid really – a habit from arranging literally thousands of these expeditions with her more than mortal Sanctuary colleagues over the years. After all, it wasn't like a vampire was going to succumb to a little incidental damage like… a stinger in the gut, or a rock through the leg, but still, Helen felt the need to be sure.

Nikola was making an unpalatable sound in the smoke, as though something rather disdainful had landed on his tongue. Served him right for trying to make some smarmy remark – it wasn't as though she could've predicted the Sand Ray was in its mating cycle before he'd disrupted it anyway!

Finally he managed to expel enough of the unwanted sediment to get out a clear sentence from his hunched over position, "Why is it I can never seem to catch a break when it comes to hormonal women?"

Helen slapped him on the arm for the barely-veiled illusion to the nine months of over-emotional hell he had put her through last year.

"Ow."

She rolled her eyes, "Maybe the _hormones_ just make them hyper-aware of what an obnoxious _ass_ you're being?"

He grinned over at her, that incongruously arrogant look in his eyes which she'd shoot down in an instant… if she wasn't sure he had more convincing evidence up his sleeve. "Yeah," he straightened himself out, adjusting the ripped cuffs of his expeditionary jacket as though it were part of a three-piece suit, "or maybe they're just grouchy because they can't have sex."

"What, you mean like you will be for the next… hmm… I'm thinking… six days?"

"Only six?" he leered lowly, cocking an eyebrow at her, and stepping a little closer into Helen's personal space so that her hand automatically reached up to hold him back at the heart.

"I don't think my staff would be able to put up with the torture otherwise," she countered evenly, her reprimand not without encouragement as the low murmur resonated through his bones.

He watched her lips hungrily, oh so very ready to make her disregard that little threat with a kiss, but the radio, somewhat predictably, blared out from its location on her hip.

"_M?"_

They still had to be careful not to use their real names top side even after all this time. You never knew who might be listening, and the names Helen Magnus, Nikola Tesla, hell, even Will Zimmerman, were a little too hot on the international wire even with her supposed death twenty years ago.

Tesla made a disapproving sigh and snatched the rather old-school radio from her waistband before she even remembered which side she'd put it on.

"It's alright Dr Panic-attack; you can go back to piecing together the childhood traumas of little abnormals everywhere. The dusty manta-ray's sleeping like a baby."

Helen merely gave him that unimpressed look she did so well, and he tossed the radio back to her waiting hands.

"_Yeah, funnily enough_ Nikki _your saying so doesn't exactly fill me with confidence_. Over."

Tesla rolled his eyes but failed to snatch the device back now that Magnus had it in her hands, and took to pouting instead.

"The ray's secured Will, from the pigmentation on its tail it would appear she's on her mating cycle… which accounts for the unexpected sandstorm. Over."

"_Would that have caused her to purposefully attack a human settlement though? Over."_

She watched, as Tesla got bored and started eying the Sand Ray as if it were doing something interesting – something she couldn't see with her own two eyes.

"Absolutely not. If she'd had a juvenile to protect, maybe… We should keep the noise to a minimum. Unless anything of immediate importance comes up we'll save it for the debrief. Over."

A sigh from the radio which Will probably hadn't meant to be heard, "_Alright, just… be careful. Over and out._"

Crouched over the slumbering beast Tesla sighed dramatically, "You'd think after all this time I'd have gotten over the irony…" he glanced at Helen as she approached, giving him an inquisitive tilt of her head, "The boy wonder…" he gave by way of explanation, "telling the two-hundred year old abnormal-protecting renegade – _who blew herself up_, I might add – to 'be careful'."

Joining him, closer to the abnormal's level, she smirked, "He does have a tendency to be pedantic when stressed, I'll grant you, but it's nice to know he cares." Another smile graced her face as she attempted to bring her diagnostic tablet back to life and input the data she was about to take from the creature's vitals and samples. "Reminds me of someone else we used to know…"

"Oh please," Nikola scoffed, running a hand over the back of the ray in a curiously tender gesture which did not match the look on his face, "James had a better sense of humour."

"Well maybe that's because you treated him with just a modicum more…" she trailed off at the look of concentration on his face. "Nikola?"

He seemed to snap out of his absorption in the Sand Ray, enough to realise she was asking him what he was doing; "She's giving off a pulse. Like an SOS."

Helen gave it some thought, "Well, they communicate to other members of their species at that level – it's why her sister up in Egypt struggled to cope with the Macri's Magnetic Pulse when it was contracting Bertha... despite their natural resistance to the stimuli. It was overload on what turned out to be an already severely damaged sensory nerve."

"Hmm…"

She watched him closer still. Analytical 'hmms' were all too often a prelude to some rash experiment designed to eliminate certain theories, and she'd had to stop him from _prodding,_ as Will liked to call it, more times than she could count. When he failed to do anything provocative for a full minute she spoke up, "Hmm?"

He glanced back again, "She's unconscious… still screaming," he started gesturing with his fingers, eying her meaningfully, "and that doesn't bother you?"

"What are you saying – that some part of her physiology's been altered?"

"No – that she's stuck on repeat because someone's been smacking the button a little too hard, too often."

Helen tried to stifle a smile at such an _analogue_ comparison, as Alistair would've derisively snorted at them in that way teenagers were wont to do. She could have pointed out that nothing had a mechanical repeat button anymore, not even CD players, but she was too busy watching Nikola, as he stood up to walk a circumference around the Ray.

"Well once we have these diagnostics, we'll be able to see what's causing it," she reasoned, getting back to the task at hand and taking her eye off of him, "We can't apply treatment to the nerves until the underlying condition has been alleviated."

The Sand Ray shifted as she pulled out a sample of fluid, squirming as if she were tickling it. Her head instantly snapped on Nikola, who was standing three meters to her left and behind. Quickly throwing up his crossed arms, open palmed, he started claiming innocence at her unspoken accusation... but the smirk made it unconvincing to say the least.

The pointed glare she was throwing him to stop interfering soon ushered an exasperated, "Fine!" from his lips. "But there's a lot of activity right there," he pointed to a spot on the Ray which Magnus recognised as the location of its heart.

Immediately breaking out a stethoscope – such a traditional piece of equipment it almost seemed incongruous – she listened in.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Well guys, much as I love Vienna in Springtime, I have a hankering for some more modern schenanigans, particularly post-SFN where the scope is just endless. Let me know if you want to see more of this. I'm only going to post more chapters/finish writing this with your support because there's a scene I've gotten to that I'm not particularly inspired by but know needs to be written and… and… well gorram it I want to skip to smut sooo badly. Oh dang, maybe I should just go write a sex-fic and get it out of my system. Phhhhff. Let me know what you think folks.

And yes Alistair is probably who you think he is, and if you've read Howl to the Moon, you'll realise this is in the same head-cannon so ;)

**DISCLAIMERS**: Obviously I do not own Sanctuary, any of the characters, or the image I've used (which is a screen-cap from Kali (Season 2 finale) where Helen and Pili find the Giant Sand Ray). I am not making any money from any of this, and do it purely out of love… and because I get a kick out of it.

**UPDATE: 19/04/13 -** quick update, re-watching Kali, I realised it was the Macri which made the EM pulses that made all the creatures go bonkers not Bertha. Though it was never particularly explained (maybe it was Bertha responding?) I think it's likely it was supposed to be the Macri's signal affecting everyone/thing. So I just changed that a bit. :) small slip up.


	2. Chapter 2

Back at camp the team of abnormal-friendly researchers they'd hired to assist the operation were rushing around, so involved in the tasks they'd been set that they barely registered Magnus and Tesla's return. Something had obviously cropped up. Helen headed straight for the command tent, where Will was stood hanging over one of the techies – an abnormal called Norma, if she wasn't mistaken – reading the screen in front of them. It was hard to miss the girl when she insisted on dying her hair bright pink. The flap of tent fabric drew Will's keen attention in an instant, onto that slight frown of concern now hovering on his boss's face.

"How'd it go?" he asked, before Tesla followed her in.

Her fingers slipped into the tops of her canvas pockets as she stepped within range, "She'll need regular check-ups but we've stabilised her condition."

The use of 'we' – and not in the royal sense – piqued Will's interest immediately. He straightened up, mirroring Helen's stance until she unconsciously withdrew her hands.

"There was a cardiac arrhythmia," she gestured openly as she explained, "Something had placed a severe stress on its nervous system, so I administered a beta-blocker to re-set her pulmonary rhythm…" then a smile ghosted on her face, "and she… seemed to quite enjoy the magnetic massage."

Will followed the tip of her head towards Tesla with a questioning look, but as usual the vampire was feeling unhelpful and didn't look like he wanted to elaborate.

"What, you thinking of going into physiotherapy now?" the psychiatrist jibed.

Tesla shot him a withering look sharpened with a bitter smile, as he reached for the lone bottle of wine on the side – his only ration, and sole concession on these missions, "Sorry Junior. I'm sure you're just dying for the experience, but I only take on select, _private_ clients," he leered in Magnus' direction. His mood noticeably improving at the sound of Will's disparaging sigh, even if it did earn him a roll of the eyes from Helen as well. There was an audibly supressed giggle in the vicinity though – Norma, it seemed found it amusing – and the sign of his shenanigans being appreciated by _someone_ in the room only encouraged Tesla's smug self-satisfaction.

Head shaking, Will leaned back against the table and rested his arm on the back of Norma's chair, "So you tagged her with the tracking device?"

Helen nodded.

"I'll go ahead and arrange for a series of routine checks with Abdel and Mohammad then."

"Good, make them every month."

She could tell from the way her old protégé was standing that there was more on his mind, probably whatever had set the rest of the camp into a spin.

"Any news?" she asked, with another nod in the direction of the computer Norma was working from.

He flicked a brief glance at the vampire screwing the lid of the wine bottle back, distracted by just how unconcerned Tesla appeared; lounging on the camping chair – glass in hand – as if it were actually comfortable. Never was a team player, Will mused briefly, before addressing the rather pressing point.

"As it just so happens…" he began, demeanour shifting from the cautious observer to that of a leader, arms uncrossing to take up a tablet and tapping on it to select the correct files. "Henry's sent in some more reports about the other disturbances, and then…" he looked to her, passing over the notepad, and then gesturing at it, "_this_."

Helen pressed play on the online video, concentrating on the footage: a group of men in camo-style gear, some pretty impressive calibres hanging from their shoulders and waists, all of them in the prime of life. They were speaking Arabic – far from unusual for East Africa – mocking, gloating. The bandanas around their necks couldn't hide their excitement, their wide white grimaces of pleasure, as a large abnormal, the size of a bear, was brought into their circle. The creature – similar to a Haileorus, but she couldn't identify it off the top of her head – roared at its antagonists, as they tied it to a steel post: now it really _was_ starting to remind Helen on the bear-baiting she'd once witnessed in her youth.

From the seat Nikola's eyes had zeroed in on her, or rather the video, with interest at the unusual sound – and not just the tortured cries of pain. Waiting only a moment before ambling up behind her, he frowned in consideration at the rather Sanctuary/SCIU-like weapons being deployed for their own amusement. Zapping the creature, the figures laughed as it howled, as it attempted to get at them, before the crack which followed ignition changed frequencies and the creature promptly fell down dead – as though someone had merely hit a switch.

Watching, as he had many times before, Will caught the resigned twinge of sympathy in his boss's steely gaze, the unusually sombre countenance Tesla could only seem to manage when something important or complex came along to test him. Yeah, you always knew when things were bad when the egotistical pain in the ass that was Nikola Tesla had gone _quiet_. Or if Magnus started pressing her lips together like that.

It was a horrible video. Nothing but cruelty for their own entertainment, and the weapons, well, that was the most worrying thing of all.

"May I?" Tesla asked her, open palm awaiting the notepad expectantly.

She nodded and handed it over, briefly casting a knowing gaze towards Will.

"Can that weapon..." she began, turning towards the vampire who was standing a little closer than she'd anticipated, "is it emitting a magnetic pulse?"

One which could have over-loaded the magnetically-resistant Sand Ray, she was suggesting, without killing it like the less resistant abnormal on the video.

"Yeah," Nikola didn't look at her at all, focused on skipping to the relevant parts of the video – he was avoiding confrontation, big time, Will thought to himself. Tesla, though, seemed to sense she was waiting for more of an explanation, and so started to fill by way of a diversion: "in effect. That's what all sparks do. Only this is turning your garden-variety by-product into a central part of the weapon."

It was a little late for a smokescreen of droll turns of phrase however. She'd already clocked the delay in his response, and Helen was quick to register the little things now: now that they'd openly admitted their importance to one another, now that they were bound by flesh and blood.

"_Nikola_…"

His back prickled a bit at the use of _that_ tone, but he didn't let it show save for the momentary flinch of distraction as he worked. It didn't take a genius to know that if he looked up right now, the two grown-ups in the room would have their arms crossed, and the newbie would be all goo-goo-eyed and lost in a sea of secret code, a code like only people who'd known each other for decades could muster.

"…is this… looking a little familiar to you?"

The arch tone hazarding a pretty accurate guess wasn't as _angry_ as it used to be, back in the days when she'd been oh so very sure, at every turn, that he was about to disappoint her with yet another mad scheme. Nowadays it was almost expectant. The kind of knowing, nagging voice of someone who knows they're going to have the pleasure of going '_I told you so'_, later on.

On Helen's part, it was the hesitation, the absence of complaint that she was 'always so ready to believe the worst in him' – the hissing intake of breath – which really worried her.

"_Weeeell_…"

"Oh my God. Every time!" Will burst out at his minute confession, not needing to hear the rest to join the dots, "I _swear,_ I have been cleaning out the leftover hell-spawn of your 'genius' brain-children for the last _twenty years_…"

Nikola was about to retort with some viperous snark when Helen jumped in with one of her particularly crisp British reminders of who was in charge here: "Er, _gentlemen_. Let's not get into another round of that debate _please_." Sensing he was done with the tablet and merely using it as a metaphorical shield, she reclaimed the device from Nikola's grasp – forcing his attention back onto the group.

With nothing left to hide behind he sourly stared William down… as much for the fact that, often as he protested his innocence, he knew old Huggybear had a point. So many of the ideas which had grown on the fat of SCIU funding had been twisted and modified, completed and deployed, once he'd left. No matter how much they sabotaged, no matter how hard they tried, the dog fence had only been the start.

It was something he had had to live with since he'd thrown in his lot with Helen, with the Sanctuary. Before, he had never had to face the long-term consequences of his schemes – not really, not once the major crisis was over. Sure things came back to bite him on the ass from time to time, like the college-brat vamps, or bending over backwards for the _Queen of the Damned_, but that was all par for the course – you stood up, brushed yourself down, and moved on. At least that's what he _had_ done, all those times before. Before _someone_ had bound him to a place, to the people who inhabited it – gave him a reason to face it all, to grin and bear the idiots, and boredom, and evil of the world, whether it came from within, or without… still didn't mean he had to like it though.

"It's a simple enough modification," he complained, "they could've worked it out from any number of the weapons you and Heinrich have left lying around all these years."

"Simple enough for these guys?" Will asked.

"Not unless they've got an amplifier that's resistant to a couple of thousand volts."

"Can you find an effective way to stop them?" Helen cut in – Nikola hadn't called Henry _Heinrich_ in a good long while, and though the intelligent question had distracted him she didn't hold up any hope that it would do so for long.

Tesla stood a little straighter, turning to answer with one hand sweeping past his zipper-jacket, onto his hip, "Of course."

"Then do it."

It was an order, and he listened to their captain like a good little soldier, even if it was with the slight exasperation of someone who really wanted to carry on justifying themselves.

Sure in the knowledge that he _would_ do as she asked, Magnus turned back to her second in command, and the newest member of their troupe, who was currently gawping at them as inconspicuously as possible.

"Norma, keep looking online for any more of these videos," the girl nodded in response, and in her periphery Magnus could see Nikola had shifted to get on with his task, taking the wine bottle. Which left her with; "Will…"

He understood instantly, even with the barest tilt of her chin, that she wanted him to come with her, and follow her to the other side of the tent – well out of Norma's earshot.

"If these criminals _are_ the reason for the Sand Ray's altered behaviour," she began earnestly, "are they merely good sport in their path… or being actively hunted down?"

Will sighed in sympathy – it had crossed his mind the minute she'd so much as hinted it. "To be honest we haven't got enough information on them Magnus." He shrugged, "Are they mercenaries for hire letting off a little steam, or an anti-abnormal militant group? What worries _me,_" he pointed in thought, "are those weapons. You heard Tesla; chances are they're not kitted out for this. So where did a group of gang-bangers, hell, even a group of professional mercenaries, in the _Sahara desert_, get _those_ specific weapons?"

Magnus thought about it a moment. Will was right, the weapons were the key. She very much suspected this went deeper than it seemed… and from the look on his face, so did Will.

"The only way to know is to get in close," her once-protégé suggested.

Helen held his eyes in that ironclad way that would not shy away from what needed to be done – but he could detect nervousness in the press of her lips, an apprehension at the prospect which she was trying to deny. In truth, her stomach had done a quick lurch at the notion; the simple, singular, selfish thought that she shouldn't be putting herself in the firing line again quite so soon.

It had been the same after Ashley had been born. A maternal instinct to make certain you'd be coming home to the tiny creature that still needed you. Somehow, knowing that, made her all the more stubborn to overcome it, to act as though it were just another day-in-the-life and nothing had changed. She was, after all, still head of the Sanctuary, and she always preferred to lead by example.

"Do we have any lead on their location?"

"It's okay Magnus, one of the team can go," he'd started doing this a lot, she realised: taking on the responsibilities which he detected she secretly wished she had a little help with.

It's all he'd ever wanted to do really, ever since he'd gotten his head around the whole abnormal thing… he just hadn't been ready. Nowadays though? Well, Will had proved himself too many times for her not to honour his offers of help with a little more acceptance.

"We _have_ got locals on board."

"Right," she said, acknowledging the slight bone he'd thrown to save her loss of face, but it didn't come across as happy, "they'll be more familiar with the area."

He nodded, pulling that expression which said there was more to it than that and they both knew it, "…_and_ you've got a daughter to go home to."

There was a twinge of bitterness there, which made Helen flinch automatically no matter how hard she tried not to. It wasn't aimed at her. It was the simple loss of his own child, his son, brought up afresh, and she understood that pain – acutely. She also understood that though having a baby in the Sanctuary had brought it all back to him, he didn't want to talk about it now, not here, and maybe not even with her. So with a sympathetic look she said nothing, and filed that little nugget of concern away again for another time.

"Make sure it's someone whose loyalties we're sure of Will-"

"Don't worry," he cheered, "I already eliminated Tesla."

"_Will_," she warned – her sense of humour in that department had lessened somewhat, at about the same rate as she'd become more and more certain of Nikola's commitment. It was almost as if she thought that by merely mentioning it they'd somehow encourage the vampire to start planning for World Domination all over again, and force that other shoe to finally drop.

Zimmerman threw up his hands at his sides, a faux-affronted lilt to his mouth, "I'm _kidding_."

She smiled mysteriously, "Volunteers only Will – and make sure they send in regular reports. We'll go from there once we have more information."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Yeah, I've been majorly distracted by this fic. :)

Big thanks to carmesdi, Guest and trekmomma, as well as those of you who faved/followed! I'm sure if any of you write you'll know how much that means to me. Please do take time to check out Immortals All… for some Five-related fun. There'll be a new chapter there after I've published the next one for Vienna in Springtime (which is being delayed by historical research and nice weather – I just HAD to know what types of trees were planted on the Ringstrasse! XP)

**carmesdi** – I just love tie-ins, I can't resist them when I read them in other people's fics it just makes me squee with fan-glee. :)


	3. Chapter 3

As the sky began to turn purple and pink in the dusk, stars lighting up the dark, Helen finally made her way to bed. She took a moment to take in the scenery, let the beauty of the world find its way back into her heart again… just as she always did in moments of chaos. Sometimes she just needed to take the time to breathe, and allow the complexities of the world to wash over her with the chill night breeze.

Back in the command tent Will and Norma were still going over the young abnormal's findings, and one of the local scientists – Ibrahim – had been sent to investigate a possible location for the gang based on the data they'd compiled in the last couple of hours. Magnus desperately wanted to do more tonight but her body was having none of it. After a long day hunting for Giant Sand Rays in the Saharan heat she was shattered, and her academic-self had been lecturing her repeatedly on the prudence of calling it a night. In the desert, after all, fatigue could kill and kill quickly.

The thought of curling up against Nikola under canvas was oddly comforting too, despite her irritation at his earlier reticence. They hadn't spoken since the video, but maybe it was the nostalgia of sand, and stars, and ancient kings surfacing out here among the dunes which made her so keen? She smiled to herself, mind glutting on a rather dirty train of thought as she swept the tent opening aside. He wasn't there. Even before she turned on the lamp to make sure, she had sensed the absence of his breathing.

A little put out, Helen took off the field pack which been attached to her all day and, leaving it to one side, headed for the only other place he could be.

0

Originally the camp's purpose had been that of a mobile research facility: their aim, to assess climate changes in the Saharan habitat and its effect on the wildlife – particularly any abnormal species. Helen had only intended to visit once or twice, more to satisfy her own curiosity than anything else, and command of the research team had been left in the capable hands of an old colleague's niece. Marwa's aunt, Pili, had been the head of the Cairo Sanctuary before the Hollow Earth crisis, and she had followed in her aunt's footsteps with an excellent career in xenobiological research. Then, a week ago, Marwa had unfortunately found herself inside one of the settlements completely levelled by what they now understood to be a Giant Sand Ray attack.

Magnus couldn't forget her shock at the news, and though she had been lucky enough to be evacuated to a good hospital, she doubted Marwa would recover enough to re-join the team anytime soon – even if she wanted to. So Magnus had sent Will in, who'd cottoned on pretty fast to the building pattern of unusual events, and, inevitably, as the situation worsened and the attacks from Sand Rays increased, she herself had been drawn into the fray.

Giant Sand Rays were typically much trickier to find than the current situation might've led one to believe. In fact, Nikola had come out here with Will for the express purpose of trying some new equipment designed to detect these awkward-to-find abnormals. He'd had mixed success… not that you would have guessed _that_ from the triumphant "Ha!" he'd made right before the Sand Ray had thumped him back to earth earlier that day. She smiled at the memory, glad the slim and ergonomic gizmo he'd invented had survived their jaunt – to be honest the Sanctuary couldn't _afford_ to build another one, and she couldn't put up with the pouting.

With the Sanctuary personnel's tents, and the communal sleeping arrangements for the hired staff behind her, Helen approached the three large tents housing the kitchen, command, and… the lab. It even had a cute little sign proclaiming its purpose at its door, scrawled in three separate languages, and decorated with the globular depictions of cellular life-forms.

From outside she could see the lights were still on and, sure enough, there was only one person home. Everyone else was probably having dinner, but when you'd been up since pre-dawn, it always felt a good deal later than it actually was. Somehow it felt as though everyone else were tucked up in bed: and here they were again – the only two burning the midnight oil.

"There you are," she offered, knowing he would have heard her come in, even if he _were_ too engrossed in assembling his invention to acknowledge the fact.

For once it didn't look like a gun!

Magnus found herself mildly shocked, though one look at him made her think better of saying so out loud. He was frowning determinedly at the circuitry, which meant that even those three words had been enough of a distraction to be a bother.

She smiled cheekily, _should she…_?

As though sensing her temptation, or perhaps because in her position being disruptive is precisely what _he_ would've done, he glanced up from his work and gave her attention enough to fend off the obvious questions: "No, it's not ready, and no, it's not a gun… for once."

She ventured closer to the lab table, tipping the now empty wine bottle on its edge as if to test the contents (or lack thereof), with one finger on its top. He watched briefly, before attempting to focus back on the circuitry.

"Jamming device?" she asked, peering over his arm at the obscure piece of kit he was modifying.

He could see her in the corner of his eye, feel the shift she'd caused in the air – God she was so distracting. Giving up, again, he looked up at her from his seat and regaled her with the product of his brilliant mind. "The frequency it emits should affect the mechanism creating the synchronised burst of energy inside the weapons themselves."

"Ah," she looked at him mid-thought, "so, downside being…"

"We can't use stunners in range. I know, I know," he defended pre-emptively, "it's not an ideal solution, but it's not like I've got a lot to work with."

He gestured at the lab, the contents of which were predominately out of his purview and more in the realm of the biological sciences. All he'd had to go on was whatever he'd brought out here to test, and she had specifically limited that to prevent him being out here into the winter months, absorbed in whatever wonderful experiments he envisioned.

Prudently biting the words '_a poor workman blames his tools_', which never failed to spring to mind on these occasions, Helen merely smiled. Nikola, however, was unappreciative of her rather obvious amusement at his predicament and shot her a moody look, before continuing in his battle against their seemingly-forever-rationed resources. Literally, no matter how many times he managed to update their equipment, or materials for that matter, the Sanctuary never seemed to have the things he needed, when he needed them. Especially in the field – really, would it have killed them to bring just a little more than a screwdriver kit, and a soldering iron! He suspected that Helen had just given up trying – which completely explained why the tech labs had consisted of such an antique rummage sale whilst Henry had been in post at the Old Sanctuary and there'd been no one to fly the flag for _progress_, as opposed to make-do-and-mend.

"I know," she finally offered, a note of softness in her voice making him glance back at her.

Catching his slate-grey eyes, as though they were both suspended in time, she saw an unexpected thought dash across them. It tempered that egotistical brow of his, until the corners of his mouth were grimacing slightly with something he wanted to say, but didn't.

"Helen…"

She knew what was playing on his mind, cracking its way out of his skull: the guilt of knowing there was _another_ of his prototypes flooding the black market, aimed by her enemies to murder indiscriminately, to destroy everything she stood for. Perhaps too, there was some knowledge as yet unrevealed, another card hidden up his sleeve which he felt ashamed of – of _how_ that weapon might have gotten here, of what its original purpose had been. Right now, however, she could detect all she needed to know. The waiver in his voice, the vulnerability in his posture told her he knew precisely where he _wanted_ to stand – and it wasn't alone, but with her. And just so long as that was true, Helen felt as though she could forgive him almost anything.

For a couple who spoke so much, they said so very little in words. He didn't even finish the sentence. A subdued avoidance of her gaze, the little step she made to put them closer: when he looked back, wondering how he was going to phrase this, he realised he didn't need to. She already knew he was sorry, and that sorry just wasn't enough to express what he felt. The long hush, the quiet look, seemed to melt away every word that went unsaid. A mutual understanding, resting on that kind of telepathy only two old souls who'd known each other _this_ long could achieve… and it still left Nikola itching.

Pressing his lips together, however, a pleasant and somewhat unexpected thought suddenly and completely transformed his demeanour, "There was a message earlier, by the way," he broached, regaining his composure.

Reaching for a tablet he handed it to her with a nonchalance which only belied his excitement at being the one to give her whatever good news awaited.

"…thought you might appreciate seeing it for yourself."

Eying that cockiness suspiciously she nevertheless accepted the computer. Expecting it to be something work related she was a little confused as to why Nikola clearly cared so much… and then she saw the picture on the screen. Helen's face practically lit from the inside, a small smile, so proud and heartfelt it radiated from her.

It was a picture from the team, back at the Sanctuary, and it seemed their infant daughter had yet another admirer. This time she was getting cuddles in the warm, hairy arms of the juvenile Sasquatch who'd made New Sanctuary their home last year, and for a moment it were as though her Old Friend was there again, giving his care and love to another of her children.

Memories of the Big Guy and Ashley hit her like a truck, and though it ached just a little, she was almost glad to feel that pang. Just to remember them again: as though they were right here, in spirit, keeping watch over them all.

When Helen glanced back, eyes wide with gratitude, Nikola was grinning roguishly and yet beneath that, the warmth, the tenderness her reaction had filled him with was obvious.

Before _She_ was born Helen had never seen such an expression on his face, something so unabashed, so unguarded. It was beautiful, and made her ache for her daughter in a way she couldn't have anticipated. She just couldn't get over it – how in-awe he was of Sofija, how proud. Nikola Tesla, floored by a gurgling baby.

Not Magnus, not even his scientific achievements could ever replicate this love… and every time she was reminded of that, Helen _knew_ it had all been worth it.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

A little fluffy really, this one. :) But hey, what's fanfic without a little fluff? More action in upcoming chapters – and more Teslen!


	4. Chapter 4

Wet blood glistened on his black skin in the sun, drying quickly where it ran, crumbling… crusting like his dehydrated gums. The last 10 meters felt like a mile – sucking life out of him with every step – and as Ibrahim finally reached it, finally made it home, he wondered if the horrified stares of his friends rushing towards him were even real.

"Oh my God!" someone calls out as he staggers, "Ib? Norma get Magnus!"

He tries to speak but can't. Then he falls, with one great outward sigh.

"Ibrahim, stay with us. Dr Zimmerman! Dr Magnus! Jamie? Damn it!"

Ibrahim's eyes start to shut, the words in his ears start to grow distant, and though he's vaguely aware of the geologist holding onto him, of the people he's asking for, he wants to sink into the darkness. The strong, firm hands grip his arm, and a stern English voice breaks him back into the light.

"Dr Okonjo. This is Dr Magnus, can you hear me?"

His eyes roll slightly open, but barely, knowing he had something important to do… but not remembering what.

Helen found herself facing a body dotted with trauma – surface wounds here, there and everywhere, and a rather solid one to the gut. She made a discouraged sound, knowing every second was precious. "Dr Ironsi, I need the medi-kit – _quickly_."

It had been two days since they sent Ibrahim to investigate, but only a few hours since he'd last checked in – this shouldn't be happening.

The commotion in the camp which had surrounded Helen and Will as they'd dashed out from Command had died to a silence in those few precious seconds. The shocked faces of their colleagues, untrained in medicine, watching on in horror as Magnus attempted to stem the tide of those injuries. Praying, as Ibrahim struggled to pull himself back into consciousness.

"T- th-" he choked on his own words, claw-like hand dancing in mid-air as if it had a mind of its own.

"What, what do you need?" Will asked, realising that he was trying to tell them something and attempting to deduce it from his pain-ridden gestures… with little success.

Then he started convulsing.

"Oh bloody hell. Stay with us Ibrahim."

Ironsi came jogging back with her kit and Magnus reached for the drugs, letting Will automatically replace her hand for the pressure on that most vital wound. The liquid was prepped, the needle in his vein but he gave out a horrid gasp: body thrown by the heart attack that was ripping though his rib-cage. Helen finished the injection, automatically starting compressions – but the minute she started she finally realised how much blood surrounded them. It had pooled at their knees like the rain which never fell… and no transfusion equipment on hand. Quite literally, they didn't have enough blood for his heart to pump, even if she managed to start it again. Her hands paused as it dawned on her.

"Hey, you… you can't give up on him," Jamie sobbed, "You, you can't-"

"I'm sorry Dr Ironsi," Helen looked up empathetically, the solidity of her voice failing her, "there's nothing I can do."

There were tears already, growing more free at the sight of their happy-go-lucky lab-mate now dead on the floor.

Glancing about at the crowd which had questioned her, Magnus could feel her normally steady hands shake. She caught sight of Nikola, and was struck by the peculiar look on his face. It was so out of place she didn't understand it at first, then it clicked – why his eyes flashed at once with both compassion, and fear. Why he was stood away from the scene, though his gaze seemed to pour out every reassurance she wanted to hear… it was the blood.

"Magnus," Will's voice interrupted, demanding her attention on some element of the scene which had – in the tumult – escaped her notice. He was reaching into Ibrahim's right-hand pocket, which had been directly beneath his elbow as his directionless arm had waved about, finger pointed downwards.

Helen watched as the psychiatrist pulled out a phone, gazing at the screen with that muted consideration he gave every piece of evidence. "I think Ibrahim knew he wasn't going to make it," he sighed sadly, shaking his head in dismay and turning it round so she could see.

It was a GPS map, a route marked, plotting the path he had taken… ending right here at this spot. That he had had the foresight to do this was typical of Dr Okonjo, but made it no-less chilling.

"How long had he been walking?" she asked quietly, stalwartly maintaining her composure but no less affected by the sight of the dead man's trail.

Will sighed again, head bowing as he looked in on the screen, certain that if she was asking something which seemed to cause such discomfort, she must consider it important. "About two hours."

Closing Dr Okonjo's eyes with the respect that was due, Helen rose up a little unsteadily from the ground and looked to Dr Ironsi, "Jamie, please, can you and Dr Farina help Dr Zimmerman – take Ibrahim into the lab tent. We need to find out who did this to him…" Jamie looked about ready to collapse, until Helen rested a reassuring hand to her arm, "I promise you. We will find them."

Ironsi nodded distantly, taking in a shaky breath. Then Helen registered the sudden absence of a certain member of the crowd.

"Hey…" Will approached Helen, flicking through the phone, "There's photographs…" he shook his head with a saddened respect for the man's efficiency, "Norma?"

The pink-haired abnormal responded with a rather croaky "Yeah."

"Get the route uploaded, and run these photographs alongside the database back home. See if we recognise any of these bastards."

She nodded enthusiastically, almost snatching the phone from Will's grasp and letting him get on with moving the body.

"I'll be over in a minute," Helen explained, "can you prep?"

It was Will's least favourite job, and they both knew it, but after what Dr Okonjo had just been through he really couldn't complain, so instead Zimmerman gave an unenthusiastic, "Yeh," and got to work.

The Doc threw him a silently emphatic thank you, cleaning her hands with the wet-wipe she'd tucked into her back pocket as she quick-marched to her own tent.

Inside, Tesla was wearing a hole onto a patch of floor no bigger than one by two meters, pacing relentlessly in what she knew to be an attempt to supress himself. He was probably counting every single bloody step too.

Snapping to a halt the instant she arrived he span on her, finger pushed against his lips in a manner which might've been meditative, if his eyes hadn't darkened several shades at the barest scent of blood.

She didn't say anything, and neither did he, from the other side of the tent. All she did was stride determinedly to his luggage, ferret out the case which she knew held his emergency medication, and threw him one pointed, maternalistic look as she undid the clasps.

"I'm fine," he bit out as she held the vial towards him, spreading the hand formerly at his mouth in a gesture which couldn't possibly hide the slight undercurrent in his voice.

Now she shot him a look of utter disbelief, "No," she posed flintily, bringing the vial and a syringe towards him, "you're not."

"Yes, I am," he sighed, but she'd noticed the slight flinch in the way he held himself as she approached, the tightening of his grip on the side-table where their files were stacked. The growl from his voice retreated just a little, but it wasn't quite enough to convince her that the violent scene hadn't completely affected him. "I can't afford to take this," he posed logically, even as she prepared the syringe, "it's my last one. What if we're stuck out here for another week? It's not like there's a plethora of herd animals in the vicinity."

Stepping up until they were almost chest to chest, she levelled dead into those coppery irises, "I _really_ don't want to waste a bullet Nikola," She started pushing up the shirt he was wearing, exposing his veins. "But so help me…"

Nothing was ever simple, of course. She felt him tug and twist his arm against her, belatedly resisting the manoeuvre and forcing her to wrangle for control. In the end, though, he let her do it – and she'd be a fool to think otherwise. One twist and he could've broken her limbs. The only reason that syringe full of serum made it into his blood-stream was because somewhere, buried deep, Nikola was afraid. Genuinely terrified, that regressing into the blood lust was a very _real_ possibility and willpower alone wouldn't cut it.

Her workforce was already traumatised; Helen thought to herself, they didn't need to add a rabid vampire to the mix just because Mr Egotist didn't fancy facing his limitations today. Even so, as she flicked her irked gaze back to his, watched the fangs appear through his open lips, listened to the heavy breathing – as though he'd been running for miles and miles – she had to admit it wasn't just about her employees. _She_ couldn't deal with the thought of having another of her fears realised, another friend, another brilliant mind traumatised in her service. Not now, when her outer-body was more shaken than she might've expected by the latest death for her cause.

Yet another soul sacrificed on the altar of a better world. A world which, for so many years now, Helen felt as though she would have absolutely no right to live in when the time finally came.

Such thoughts brought a melancholy to her face – one which he studied minutely as the flood of nutrients hit his system. Picking up the smallest inflections, feeling the pound of her heart fade back to its usual levels, he realised she should've been out _there_: performing the autopsy, consoling the troops, but she'd come to _him_ first. Not out of a lack of trust – she _knew_ he'd sooner take a long walk in the desert than break his oath – but out of need. To be reassured… to remind herself that she had done, _would_ do, all that she could for the people under her care. Oh, Helen Magnus always did such a fantastic job of that stiff-upper-lip, that war-time ethos of grinning and bearing, but she had never been able to hide it from him. Not when he was _looking_ at least.

Before his fangs had even fully retreated he pressed his lips to hers, relishing the sudden grip of her fingers on his arm and the way she hung onto that kiss as though she could make it last forever. It didn't chase it all away, but it soothed her, restored her strength in ways she had, rather worryingly, come to rely on.

Noses still close together as they parted, their unfocused eyes finally met: two unspoken thank you-s hovering breathlessly, tingling the moist skin of their mouths with the sincerity so clear in their expressions. He shifted, so his forehead gently pressed against hers – letting her close her eyes momentarily, regain her strength. They had a job to do, and Ibrahim's murderers, those abnormal-torturers, were _not_ going to wait for them to play catch up.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Because I seem to have a thing for making a certain vampire takes his medication? I didn't realise until I was editing that I tend to write about it a lot. Maybe because we never got to see it in the show, maybe because it represents so much, who knows.

Thank you for the faves, follows and reviews folks! I promise chapters will still arrive on this one, but not as regularly as Vienna in Springtime which is, sadly, being slowed down by RL. This is a very busy time at work and I've been too strung out to find the wherewithal to write, but this has been sat on my computer for a while now so I thought I'd post it to tide you all over.


	5. Chapter 5

Hours seemed to pass with unnerving speed as they worked to get at the heart of what had happened to their colleague, and very few had actually passed by the time Will pushed open the lab tent door. Tesla, his head bent over electrics, didn't spare him so much as a glance – as usual. On his right though, Magnus lifted her eye from the microscope on which she was analysing samples of blood and tissue, from the autopsy they'd performed on the still warm body. Despite the topic of study it struck Will as an oddly domestic scene. Well… what passed for domestic with these two: their workstations separate yet almost together, an island quite separate from the rest of the room – which had been scrubbed clean after the post-mortem and was now occupied with a couple of assistants helping her process the test results. If their enemies were using any chemicals in defence, if they could learn one more iota about their weapons, Ibrahim's body would prove a valuable source of information. It didn't sound pretty, but it _was_ practical and a damn site better than letting the people who'd killed him get away with it.

The others were seeing to other practicalities: chartering a flight and securing passage for Ibrahim's now-salted body to his home-town, and his waiting family. God that had been a phone call Will could've done without. It had always been his least favourite part of police work too all those years ago – informing the friends and family.

"Some of the IDs came back," he posited finally, noting the look of interest the lab crew cast surreptitiously in their direction. Going round the table he placed the file between Magnus and Tesla, "Weapons cartel."

Helen's eyes snapped up to his instantly, and even Nikola paused.

"They've been running guns between Lybia, Niger, Ivory Coast for _years_ – big fish."

She knew that expression. That patented Zimmerman dismay and resolve mixed with the knowledge that this wasn't going to be any kind of good. The anxiety that there might not be anything they can do no matter how hard they try, though try, both he and they would. He had worn it when his face was much younger than it was now – but it seemed to suit him better these days, with a little grey at the ears and in the eyebrows, with the sun-weathered skin of a man of experience.

Picking up the file she acknowledged the hard work he, Norma and the team had put in, making a brief analysis of faces which she'd never seen before, and yet looked all-too familiar. Men high on power, delighting vindictively in the wrongs they could get away with. She was mildly aware that literally everyone in the room had stopped working, to watch her reaction, to catch a glimpse of their foe now that it had not only names and faces, but occasionally, even dates of birth.

"We need to infiltrate their camp," Will didn't sound in the slightest bit enthusiastic about it, but, given the circumstances, he just couldn't manage an extended silence, or worse, some 'zen' remark about letting things wait. Dr Ironsi had been a great scientist, but more importantly a brilliant man – in all the ways which counted, and his team was mourning the loss of a friend.

"I agree," she assented, putting the file down again. "They could have already started to move on – this might be our only chance to disable them."

Hands on hips, forehead leaning towards her, Will let out a breath of relief despite himself, "Right. I could put together-"

Neither of them had noticed Nikola deftly appropriating the file and flicking through it with a frown – until Will made to pick it up. "You know," Nikola cut in, pretending he was still reading where he stood, and refusing to hand it over, "I think given the circumstances, being able to take a few thousand volts, and a bullet or three might come in handy," he pointed out, watching for their response, "don't you?"

Helen understood precisely what he was getting at, "You're not going alone," she responded levelly, in a tone which would brook no argument.

"What – this is going to be a field trip for the whole class?"

She frowned disapprovingly at the glib affectation, "You have absolutely no idea what else they might have locked away – you need back up."

"Yeah," Will added eagerly, before the vampire ended up running away with any insane schemes which he'd entirely fail to clue them in on. "Plus, you don't have a particularly _great_ track record with destroying things of intellectual interest…"

Tesla hardly denied it, shrugging with a smile which could only have been meant to bait the younger man and did manage to provoke a grumbling sigh.

"And I am not sending any more of our untrained colleagues in like lambs to the slaughter," she added – making Tesla instantly focus on her as though he might psychically change her train of thought.

"Well…" Nikola broached, "that's not going to be an issue if you let me-"

"**No**."

"Well, we haven't got _time_ for a personnel drop," Will surmised logically, "So, what, just me and Professor Dramatic?"

The nickname earned him an unimpressed stare from the vamp.

"Oh no, I'm coming too."

"What?!" Will exclaimed to the backing track of Nikola's sigh.

"Helen…"

Her head twisted onto Nikola's oh-so-nuanced tone, more than a little aggressively, "We're about the only people here who've been properly combat trained, the _only_ ones with any experience – and as much as Jamie would no doubt relish the revenge…"

"She'd be unreliable in the field," Will followed.

Helen nodded, even knowing she was being a massive hypocrite, risking both her daughter's parents in the same sweep, she knew it was the right decision – the only decision she could make. One independent agent was enough on a mission like this, and she wasn't happy with the odds letting Will and Nikola go it alone. This could easily turn into more than a two-man operation, and frankly she didn't trust anyone else in the camp not to get shot in the face as soon as the cartel clapped eyes on them.

She did her best not to look in Nikola's direction, and refocused on her work, knowing instinctively that he was giving her that wide expression. That look of a man desperate to demand that she change her mind, yet astute enough to know that kicking-and-screaming wasn't going to get him anywhere.

"Magnus…"

Will reflecting Nikola's concerns though, well, she hadn't quite built up a defence against _that_ one – rare though it was – the unease in his eyes made her feel ever so slightly guilty.

"I know," she murmured, giving him a determined nod which said: get on with it; I know what I'm doing.

Will, it seemed, needed to look Tesla's way to believe she wasn't going to actually change her mind however, a fact which bristled her slightly. Not that he didn't know she was entirely capable of making up her own mind, but it seemed even the protégé knew Nikola had a certain leverage – what with the hundred year head start on knowing her. Finding nothing in the vampire's avoidant gaze, however, Will looked back to her with a never-ending-sense that he was the only one around here with his head still screwed on, "Fine. You're the boss."

She knew then that he disapproved of her lack of motherly prioritisation, or perhaps more that it would inevitably affect her later in some delayed sense of guilt or disassociation, even if her decision didn't outright kill her. Helen, though, had long ago accepted the fact that being disassociated was simply a fact of life when you were immortal. There came a point where it was harder to connect with people beyond the surface niceties of everyday life, and besides, the guilt she'd feel if something actually happened to those scientists out there, was more than she would ever feel for potentially risking her daughter's emotional stability. Maybe it _was_ cold of her, maybe it was foolish, but somehow… Helen just _knew_ that Sofija would always be loved and cared for, whether she was there or not. Just as she'd always known Big Guy or James would've loved Ashley as their own had it come to the worst, protected her as fiercely as her mother, so too would Henry or Maga, or Will, for Sofija.

Besides which Nikola was pretty damn hard to kill, and Sofija was going to have to live with both her parents putting themselves in danger on a regular basis. It made more sense for it to be a simple fact of life, right now, from day one, than to spring it on her when she could finally understand the difference. She'd never forget Ashley's expression the day she'd realised where Mommy was going on her little trip: the fear for her after witnessing the first dangerous abnormal loose in their home. Oh she'd coped well enough, she'd always had courage by the bucket load, and it didn't take long for it to become a normality she'd thrived on, but it had taken a good deal of convincing at first, and the pre-emptive terror in those baby blues had hit her like a stone at the time. Nope, Sofija was always going to know that her mother did a dangerous job: that she would come home tired, and battered, and bruised, and perhaps she might not come home at all, but that was okay – because Mum would always fight harder, just to come back to her, and if she failed, she would always be with her. She would always know just how much she was loved.

"I'll go prep the kit," Will finished, heading out with a shake of his head, "Briefing in an hour?"

"Thank you," she offered belatedly, and the meaning in it had them all regarding her with sincerity.

Once he'd left, she knew Nikola – who had yet to get back to work – was itching to say something. She stopped to meet his eyes with a sigh, but the words just wouldn't come out… for either of them.

"I can't-"

"I know."

She gave him an exasperated look – if he knew, then why was he looking at her like she'd asked him to take apart one of his experiments?

"You can't let them go in," he reiterated, "I get it."

Wait, Helen thought to herself, he didn't think she couldn't trust him, did he?

"I can't risk losing anyone else today," she started quietly, hoping he'd read between the lines, "not unless I'm there to at least _try_ and do something about it."

He seemed to hear her then, the disgruntlement dropping in sympathy but not entirely relenting. He sighed dramatically, and she knew she'd won his silence on the matter – for now at least, "You're a chronic micromanager you know that?"

She couldn't help but smirk, raising one fine eyebrow as she prepared one last slide, "I was aware of the fact, yes."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Because I am a strong believer in the fact that what makes Teslen work is the fact that they can be their own people, and yet complement each other… that, in the words of an awesome song:

"I want you, and I want you to want me to want you/ But I don't need you/ Don't need you to need me to need you"

"I love you, and I love how you love how I love you/ But I don't need you/ Don't need you to love me to love you."

Also Will is not an idiot. Annoying as he can be sometimes in the show, he has his reasons: he's untrusting of Tesla because Tesla gives him no reason to be charitable and for the longest time, no reason to trust that his motives are to anyone's benefit other than his own (ah, Tesla without the ulterior motives? Never, but who those motives serve is another matter entirely)… and what I like is that as the show progresses you can start to see that slowly, very slowly, start to change. Partly because I think Tesla changes, somewhat, I mean, it was already there in him, but I think the 60 yrs of solitude did things to the guy that twisted it in the evil direction, and I think being de-vamped knocked some sense into him… especially regarding his friendship with Magnus and how, you know, he shouldn't take it _quite_ so much for granted.

Anyway, sorry, felt like some character analysis :D next time... man I can't wait till you see it because Tesla kicks so much ass. XD TTFN.


	6. Chapter 6

**Fair Warning for some pretty big swears, next chapter I will up the rating, and this message will disappear. Apologies if this offends any innocent eyes - please get in touch if you are and I will change it immediately.  
**

The enemy camp was nestled against the opening to several caves on a rocky hill-side, a parting in the sand-dunes full of grit and the occasional hardy fauna. A geophysical scan of the area had identified a number of interlinking caves which looped back to this same place, but there was more than enough activity on the surface. Their camp was more military than civilian; everything had a hostile air to add to the impermanency. Around the main honeycomb of entrances in the face of the rock stood several well-worn tents, patrolled by men with guns like the ones on the videos – the latest automatics strapped to their hips just in case.

Nikola walked right up to the entrance as though he was meant to be there, conspicuous silver briefcase in hand – and it took them a good long while to notice him despite all that.

Maybe it was the heat? He smiled cockily as the grunt waved a gun in his direction and addressed him in Arabic.

"Hey, hey," Tesla eased, the pedantry dripping from an untrustworthy smile even as he flung his hands up in a gesture of harmlessness, "Let's not get our camel pants in a twist. Okay?" He switched to Arabic, "Take me to Mujahid."

The heavily muscled goon squinted dully at him down the sights of his weapon, "Mujahid is a busy man, white-boy. Go home to your mother."

Tesla raised his eyebrows at that one, unable to keep the surprise from his face. "Fine," he deadpanned, "guess I'll take this great big wad of cash elsewhere then. I'm sure Mujahid will thank you for turning away a million-dollar deal."

"Rachid?!"

Nikola had already turned away, but he was counting on Rachid looking flummoxed between the fellow gang-member shouting his name, and the stranger bearing gifts who'd just dared to turn his back on a pretty ferocious-looking hard-ass with a gun.

"Hey!" the other gang member called out, "You! Stay right where you are."

Rolling his eyes at the fact that they'd clearly missed his purposefully slow amble away from the encampment Tesla nonetheless slowed to a halt at the no-nonsense tone, and, in his own good time, span around to regard the more dextrous-looking man who now had his gun trained on him.

"What the hell Rachid?" the new guy said under hushed breath, "what were you going to do, let him go and tell the world where we're camped tonight, God protect us."

The bulkier man shrugged, bringing his weapon up like a comforter, "Sorry Issa."

"What's your business here scrawny?" Issa directed more confidently.

Despite the moniker, Tesla's amusement never faltered. "What do your visitors usually want, pink frilly dresses from Third-World sweatshops?"

"Who sent you?"

Tesla sighed impatiently, "Really, we're going to do _this_?" he spun his finger at them, "Look, kiddos, you've got the tactical advantage here," he started to approach them, "Its 86 degrees – in the shade – I've got a case-load of cash, and an offer your boss is going to cut your left toe off for putting on hold. Now, show me to Mujahid, or kill me… but either way-" he pushed at the tip of the man's weapon with a little shark-toothed grin, "you might wanna hurry this up."

They looked at him for a moment, stunned by his distinct lack of fear, and quickly rationalising their position just as Nikola had intended them to. He was one man, in a camp full of armed mercenaries. There was no competition here – he tried anything he was dead, Mujahid would see to that. Issa smirked back as he worked it out all by his little self, and nodded briefly towards the stranger, lowering his gun.

"Alright, you think you got currency? We'll see, huh. Rachid, stay on task, I'll take our… valued guest," the grin belonged in some bazaar across an over-priced Persian rug along with all the other stereotypes it could embody, "to the boss."

0

The darkness inside the tunnel Will and Magnus were crawling through was thick, neither of them daring to turn on headlamps now that they were close to the rear of the encampment. They were pretty certain from the satellite photos and magnetic scans that the cartel were using the tunnels to store their merchandise – the most valuable weapons – just like rum-runners in America during prohibition: as Helen had already pointed out with her usual 'been there done that' aplomb. No one was on guard though, and as they reached a more open space, light started to filter through from up ahead – a pale trickle from service lights leading back to the head of the caves. They probably hadn't realised the tunnels connected up to another entrance, Magnus mused, still clutching warily to her gun as she felt a light tap on her shoulder.

Will caught her wrist and directed her palm to the wall on their left, only it wasn't a wall at all but cold steel, and plastic, in various shapes and sizes – crates. They'd found the store. She glanced back towards the light, straining her ears for any sound or movement beyond the scuttle of spiders and reptiles, and their own nervy breathing.

Her second in command approached the entrance to the room, checking the origin of the light and making sure there weren't any signs of a patrol. To his relief the corridor had in fact been blocked with a wooden panel as a makeshift door. The light, it seemed, was merely seeping through the cracks.

Returning to his boss Will turned on his headlamp, directing it away from the entranceway, so as to illuminate the scene. Rows upon rows of stacked chests which, upon opening revealed precisely what they had expected to find – illegal weapons, the most dangerous constructions ever designed for use against abnormals. They looked at each other silently, both appreciating the severity of the situation and its implications on what would follow, both knowing precisely what needed to be done. Silently, swiftly, they started taking photographic evidence, particularly of the weapons they'd never seen before; diligently cataloguing the crime for their investigation, before the necessity of its destruction.

0

Outside of the largest tent Tesla had waited with an amused smirk, as they searched him for weapons. He'd been patted down, his case checked for a secret compartment under the wads of cash, and after those paltry, predictable measures to secure their safety they had escorted him into the company of a man they'd addressed as 'Jackal'. As cute as the name was, Nikola wasn't laughing. His face was a mask of interested nonchalance, just enough to remind them he was not afraid of them, nor stupid enough to outright insult the stocky cartel leader currently bearing holes into his soul… for now.

"They say you have brought a small fortune with you," Mujahid began with a deep resonating bass, "does a man with that much currency in the desert have a name… or is he just meat for the vultures?"

"Well," Tesla sighed whimsically, "I'd like to see you piss off the owner of that currency sometime and see how long it takes you to regret it."

The Jackal seemed uncomfortable with his lack of intimidation, shifting in his seat as though to make himself bigger, and conspicuously realigning the gun resting on his chair with Tesla's balls. "I asked you your name."

"Joe."

He gave an unconvinced snort, "Sure it is."

Tesla shrugged, "About as convincing as the _Jackal_ don't you think? Look, it isn't going to matter once you have your money, and we have your weapons, so let's just skip the preliminaries and get to business, shall we?"

Mujahid stared at him for the longest while, that angry twitch Nikola was so adept at provoking in people tickling the corners of his eyes and lips as he wrestled with the situation. His men seemed to quiver momentarily in the tension, holding their collective breaths, and then, finally, the big man laughed – and it was like waves crashing into the shore.

"Joe eh?" he laughed again, putting his gun aside, "I like it – and I like your money even more. What are you planning to do, equip an army?"

He gave a canny smile, "Oh sure, because I'm going to start monologuing and tell you all the juicy details of my plan to take over the world."

The Jackal chuckled again, when a commotion outside started to draw his attention. Nikola listened closely as another guard blustered in and reported quickly in Arabic: "We have an honoured guest."

The words had a marvellous effect on the cartel leader, smugness starting to ooze from him and straightening him up… though why, exactly, Nikola wasn't sure.

"Send them in, immediately." The Jackal insisted, "A little competition is always good for a deal."

Nikola instantly went into high alert, ears pricking, eyes shifting to catch the new arrival as he swanned in through the front door – black suit, white shirt, with the words GOVERNMENT AGENT practically stamped across his forehead.

"Good God," he scoffed before he could stop himself, "could you _be_ any less subtle?"

Then the, presumably SCIU, agent turned towards the unexpected voice, cold green eyes catching him with an unnerving familiarity, and not so much as a glimmer of surprise. "Well, well, well, it looks like we have some competition."

"What, you think you're the only ones up for a little death and destruction these days?" Nikola quipped, but his eyebrow didn't twitch with it – the sort of tell only Helen, or maybe Will might notice. He was keeping both eyes fully trained on the enemy.

From his audience chair Mujahid looked between the two of them with interest, "You are… familiar with each other?"

Tesla's head snapped to the cartel leader, "Are you kidding? The whole standard issue suit is about as obvious as a fire truck made from pink neon lights. If I'd realised you dealt with the authorities, I'd have taken the money somewhere else. Last thing I need is for Washington to hear about this."

"I have to admit Tesla; I'm just as _surprised_ to see you."

That shinny penny dropped as he zeroed back in on the suit, linking the face in front of him to the memory at the back of his mind. He couldn't remember the man's name – it had been twenty years after all, and Nikola was never very good with the unimportant comings-and-goings of the minor people who featured in his life. The SCIU agent had been fresh out of college back then. Now he had a receding hairline and clearly moved up in the ranks. No doubt figuring out how to weaponise his 'dog fence' had been just the career boost he'd needed. A moment's notice, one word from him… and this charade was finished.

He shrugged nonchalantly, focusing on the agent all the while, "What can I say, I'm more of a one-man-show."

0

Will and Magnus had rigged the entire cave with charges, but they weren't done just yet. They might lop off the head of this hydra in one fell swoop, but they needed as much information as possible to prevent another two or three filling its place. That meant going in deeper – that meant sneaking through the door, and into the encampment, to the tents in which the mercenaries slept.

Ducking beneath the flap of fabric they started moving from bed to bed, looking for identification – names, nationalities, anything to indicate who exactly was involved with this gang. Going from bed to bed they appropriated a number of passports and cell phones, putting them into the backpacks which had been holding the charges before. Even if these identities had been bought and paid for, they might find the supplier, and thereby run them to ground. Either way, they needed all the information they could get.

Looking over his shoulder, Will gave Helen a quick nod to signal he was finished, which she returned with her age-old decisiveness. It was time to make a break for it.

Footsteps pattered outside the tent door, and Helen barely had chance to turn her head before she found herself face to face with a man, two feet taller and a whole lot bulkier than herself. Instinctively she rammed her elbow into his solar plexus with all her weight, dodging round whilst he gasped for air. She and Will attempted to high-tail it, before he managed to shout the alarm, but he was recovering too quickly, stumbling towards them and digging out a switchblade from his belt. Will hit him with the butt of his gun and Helen dived for the blade, wrenching it out of his hand until he cried out. Arms appeared out of nowhere around her midsection and Helen kicked, aiming for her assailant's most tender area and making complete contact. He howled, even as his friend managed to land a solid punch on Will, the noise starting to draw more than just a little attention from beyond the canvas wall.

0

"Where have you been all this time?" the SCIU agent asked, "Holed up in a cave?"

Nikola was too distracted to quip back quickly, his ears picking up a scuffling sound not too far away, he smiled slowly at the villainous bureaucrat, pedantically, as though he were about to explain to a child how they'd just screwed themselves over. Whatever he did, whatever he said, he couldn't let Mad Scientist Junior see Helen, or even infer her presence.

Clearly they had already started to piece things together in the few moments they weren't being pulled every which way by political agendas and Sanctuary meddling. If he saw her and lived to tell the tale, all that was over. It would be war, just like last time, and he wasn't about to watch her blow herself up – again – to escape it.

"Who broke ranks?" he countered, looking far too pleased with himself.

"Sorry?" the suit responded venomously.

Tesla could hear his pulse throb angrily as he shrugged his shoulders with nonchalance and attempted to ignore the distinct cadence of a brawl going on outside. "Well, the Geek Squad has more than enough _bright lights_ to figure these out from the scraps left to them, so if you're not here to sell… one of them was _bright_ enough to bail before you knew what you'd lost. Right?"

The suit was trying his best not to glower, but it was obvious enough that he'd hit a nerve.

"Oh yeah, this is just damage control," he continued, "To make sure _you_ control the highest percentage of stock, instead of people like me."

Somehow the SCIU agent's demeanour shifted, focusing on that small little opening enough to ask, "People like you? Here I was thinking you were the _only_ remaining vampire."

Nikola smiled at the recoil he sensed, more than saw, from the surrounding mercenaries.

"Vampire?"

"Come on Junior," Tesla teased the agent, not even acknowledging the hesitant mercenary with so much as a glance in his direction, "you don't think I have a vested interest in destroying every last one of these tinker-toys before you all hurt yourselves?"

"I don't think you'll be destroying anything… _Tesla_," the Jackal intoned authoritatively above them, levelling said tinker-toy threateningly in his direction. Nikola didn't so much as bat an eye, "least of all our merchandise."

The SCIU agent straightened up, eager to see where this was headed, his small eyes uniquely curious, at just how much pain and suffering his former employer could take.

"You sure about that?" Tesla quipped, taking far too much pleasure in winding up a man currently aiming at his head, "Someone could lose an eye."

"Far as I'm concerned," the mercenary grunted, caressing the trigger, his men suddenly shifting, ready to follow suit, "your boss can have their money back with your fried insides." Without hesitating he fired the electromagnetic weapon in his grip, but the vampire didn't shift an inch.

Grinning from ear to ear like the cat that caught the canary, Nikola clicked his tongue in admonishment, grabbing the weapon of the nearest mercenary with a sudden spurt of abnormal speed and wresting it from his grip. As the others fumbled to fire on him Nikola landed a few choice smacks to the head, deftly depriving them of the few automatic back-ups some had on them by bending the barrels, before they had chance to realise that all their high-tech merchandise suffered from the same malfunction. The noises outside were getting louder, gunfire starting to sound as the entire camp cottoned onto their situation. _Greed_, thought Nikola, it really did make people blind to the jamming devices hidden in the sides of suspicious briefcases bearing gifts. The money wasn't even real.

As the tent fell into chaos around him the SCIU agent moved to follow Tesla's example, arm himself with a blunt weapon so he could get out of the fray and closer to the pistol they'd no doubt confiscated from him at the door – but Tesla couldn't let that happen, couldn't risk him seeing Helen in the dust.

He smacked the presumptuous little shit hard on the back of his head with the butt of a gun, more than just a little satisfied by the grunt the weasel gave out as he fell to the floor.

The vampire glanced up, more than ready for the satisfaction of bringing the Jackal to his knees; finding, to his disappointment, that Mujahid had already escaped him. In fact, most of the tent had high-tailed it at the sight of their burly colleague knocked out by a man he should've been able to pull apart without breaking a sweat, let alone fire on. The three men he'd managed to disable onto the floor gave out vague groans as he skipped over them, hurrying to join the fray, and tip the odds back into Helen's favour.

Peeling aside the flap he instantly aimed the automatic he'd appropriated at the one target Will and Helen just couldn't cover. All three of them daring the men who'd cornered them to shoot first and see who survived. The three fierce gazes of the Sanctuary veterans matched with an uncanny similarity, a kinship their opponents couldn't match. Even as more of the mercenaries arrived, re-armed and pissed off, they hesitated to test their resolve. Not one of them wanted to be the first, all of them eager to save their own skin until the Jackal, kicking back the chamber of a semi-automatic rifle, approached the Mexican standoff their fight had become.

"I don't take kindly to people sneaking around my camp like little spies."

"Funny," Helen cut in, unfazed by the brute in front of her and more than ready to fight her corner, "I don't take too kindly to blood-thirsty militia hunting, torturing and killing for sport... Oh, wait, don't tell me," she smirked dryly, "you were being paid for that as well."

"And who the fuck are you? Bitch."

Helen glowered but Nikola beat her to it, "Ah a ah, _manners_... _She_ would be the owner of all that money you were so keen to return with my fried insides," he dared a momentary glance at Helen and Will out of the corner of his eye, sporting a sardonic grin.

"Huh," Will chuffed, training a studious gaze and knowing smile on the camp's leader as he spoke to Tesla, "what did you do, insult his mother?"

The Jackal instantly bristled as the situation started to slip from his grasp, too angry to see the small device in the flat of Helen's palm shift up to her fingers.

"Eh," Nikola shrugged, "too easy."

"Enough of this!" Mujahid fumed loudly.

"I quite agree," Helen intoned, pressing against the pad and firing into the shoulder of her nearest target simultaneously. The three of them made a break for it as the ground began to tremble, and their enemies clocked the horrifying roar of fire ripping between stone, devouring the hot desert air until rocks loosened from high upon their precipices. A few men screamed, others belatedly opening fire on the trio as they ducked and weaved towards the perimeter at full pelt. Behind them all the gun-runner's prized merchandise blew apart, in a blaze which was starting to belch black smoke through the tents like a poison, shielding them from further attack. It was a strategy worthy of a battlefield… Helen only hoped this wasn't the start of yet another war.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Oooh folks we're nearly at an end with this one already. I did say it was only gonna be a shorty, well… I meant it. Really loved writing Tesla's bits – does it show? Lol Thanks to those faving, following and taking the time to review!

**Carmedsi** – we are of likened minds! :)


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